moon child, moon child

i look at the man in the moon
wondering
is he looking back?
does he see me too? the way that I see him?
but maybe, he sees me, because I see myself
in him
for i have always been a child of the moon
every night, I watch his face, as it waxes and wanes
slivers of light disracting from planes of darkness
i feel just like him, not really my own entity
nothing more than a reflection of everyone who is shining brighter
and everyone is shining brighter
i’ve never been the sun
never been that one girl who everyone loves, armed with bright smiles, optimism, and a magnetic personality
never been something that people gravitate towards, revolve around
instead— i am the revolver: always on the outskirts, yet a weapon within my own right
for only i can change the tides
my melancholic light - silvery in its shine - is only revealed in the depths of the darkness
yet when met with brightness, i fade away, rendered invisible compared to others’ accomplishments
unseen by anyone who isn’t searching
and while i thrive in shadows, it’s the sun that casts them
and maybe
just maybe
it casts them for me
light is nothing without darkness
and i am nothing without both
“moon child, moon child,
who are you?”
i am nothing but reflections and redirections, destined to be the one who shines in the dark
